


College Days

by Parker4131970



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, College, Drama, Flirting, Gen, Ghosts, Humor, Missing Woman, Murder, Possession, Season 2, Student Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 08:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17998046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/Parker4131970
Summary: When a young woman goes missing the Winchester brothers go undercover as college students in rural eastern Kentucky.





	1. Going Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> With the gracious help of my beta, Keep_of_the_Library

**Cincinnati, Ohio,**

**The Buckeye Arms,**

**January, 2006**

“Yeah, okay, Bobby. I'll let him know. Bye.” Sam punched the end button on his phone. The taller but younger Winchester brother turned from the picture window toward his brother cleaning his weapons on the bed nearest the door.

“What's Bobby want?” Dean asked, not looking up from oiling his Colt 1911.

“He's got a case for us. Two weeks ago a girl was abducted from a small college campus and later found dead. Get this, the same thing happened at the same college in the late 80's. The place also has a reputation for ghosts.”

“Where is this college?” Dean asked, sparing his brother a glace as he lowered himself onto the opposite bed, his long legs sprawled.

“A place called Pippa Passes in Knott County, Kentucky but the county seat is a small town called Hindman.” Sam answered, picking up his laptop. 

“Huh, What's the name of the college?” Dean slid a full clip into his Colt with a quick 'snick' sound.

“Alice Lloyd College. Bobby's sending the enrollment papers overnight. We're supposed to show up for orientation in a few days.” The two talked logistics for a while as Dean finished cleaning up after their previous case and Sam did research for the next.

***

**Perry County, Kentucky …**

“Freakin' coal trucks, throwing salt brine all over Baby,” Dean griped, looking around the seventy foot long truck. He leaned to the left, trying to gauge the distance to the passing zone ahead. Laying the Impala's hammer down they cleared the truck just to get behind a Kentucky State Highway Department salt spreader.

“Shut up!” Dean snapped, hearing Sam snicker. Slowly, they chugged to the top of the hill to an intersection. Signs for Taco Bell and Big Lots glowed to the right and Wal-Mart to the left.

“Which way, smarty?” Dean demanded. Sam directed him to the left, toward Wal-Mart and Knott County half an hour drive over the hill on Highway 80.

“Bobby have any more info when you talked to him this morning?” Dean asked, settling into driving the four lane highway cut through rugged mountains harboring the life's blood of the region – coal.

“Just that he's got a job as a maintenance man with the college. Seems one of the usual maintenance guys slipped on the ice a few weeks ago and hurt his back. Bobby's staying on campus, perfect set-up for the investigation.” Sam answered, toying with the heat vent blasting warm air.

“Good, that gives us an in with the faculty. Now we just have to bide our time as students. What cover did he set up for us?” Not that he'd tell Sam, but Dean dreaded going undercover as a college student. Textbooks and academics weren't his strong suit.

“Ha! You'll like this. You're a senior, a baseball player majoring in business.” Sam shook his head as he looked over the file sitting between them on the leather covered bench seat.

“Baseball, I can do that.” Dean shrugged, rustling his leather jacket. “Who are you? Basketball player, football?”

“The college doesn't have a football team. Bobby said rumor has it there's a donor who gives a cool million every year, providing they DON'T have a football team. Anyway, they'd have to level a mountain to have a field. No, I'm on the cross country team, majoring in history. Easy enough.” Almost like picking up where he left off at Stanford. The thought made Sam miss Jess, the dull ache only lessening enough to let him breathe after a long moment.

“Too bad we can't stick around. I could be David Arquette from that movie  _ Never Been Kissed _ .”

“Dean, this is not a movie. A young woman went missing, then turned up dead.” The two bickered back and forth until they came to a four-way intersection seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Straight ahead, more Highway 80, to the right Hindman and eventually the college.

“Hmm, a Mennonite bakery, think they'd have pie? I haven't eaten since breakfast in Maysville.” Dean changed the subject to one of his personal favorites – pie. Sam shook his head. Some things never changed.

After a pie stop where Dean bought two; an apple and a molasses, the brothers headed down into Hindman. From the highway the road narrowed and funneled them into the center of town. Blink and they would have missed it. The usual staples of a courthouse, two churches and a gas station sat within sight of the one and only red light. Mountains surrounded the small town, giving it a bowl shape.

“This must be how Cheerios feel,” Dean muttered, looking through the windshield almost straight up to see the midday sky, snow falling lazily. When the light turned red Dean steered the car to the left along a narrow, twisting, two lane highway. Sheer drops to the passenger side or unrelenting rock to the left, he hugged the double yellow lines along the center.

“Son of a bitch!” Gripping the wheel in a white knuckle death grip, Dean dodged an oncoming coal truck while navigating a hairpin turn at forty miles an hour; not that fast but enough to sling Sam into the passenger side door.

“Dean! Slow down! Geez,” younger brother warned, bracing his feet while he clutched at the dash. They rode in silence, Dean easing off the accelerator. They passed Knott Central High School and it's football field. The plain, brick building seemed to set down in a hole. A few miles later brought them to another turn. A small sign indicated that Alice Lloyd College lay to the left. The road seemingly narrowed even further as it hugged a swiftly moving creek. From his research Sam surmised that it must be Caney Creek which also ran through the campus. Rugged rock faces crowned by overhanging trees lined the road between houses which lay along the floodplain of the creek. After a particularly vicious downhill turn to the left with a dip for good measure they passed a small convenience store. Surprisingly, the road widened and a large, stone sign signaled they'd arrived at Alice Lloyd College, established 1923.

“'Bout damn time,” Dean grumbled. A small, white church sat to the left as well as a few houses. Across from the church sat the first building on campus and it's adjoining parking lot. Cars of every description sat covered in snow and ice. A sign, leaning to the left, indicating that the narrow passage between the creek and the stone wall on the opposite side was one-way.

Sam scanned the campus eagerly, the tan stone buildings, walls and rock lined creek banks all lay between mountains. It reminded him of terraced gardens he'd seen in books as a boy. Students turned to watch the classic car as the exhaust rumbled. Girls filing out of the three story dorm to the left gawked as guys to the right played it cooler but just as interested.

“Call Bobby and see if he's around while I figure out parking.” Dean let the car carry itself over the first speed bump and along the street. Sam pulled out his trusty cell and began dialing only to find he had no service whatsoever.

“Huh, no service. Wonderful,” the younger Winchester frowned as he stared at the digital device now of no more use than a watch.

****

**The Maintenance Building …**

Bobby flipped the collar of his Carhart coat up to protect against the falling snow and dampness. He hefted an aluminum ladder onto his shoulder and followed another maintenance man outside into the January flurry. Salt spread hours before at 5 AM by work-study students on the Grounds Crew crunched underfoot.

“Remind me why they haven't called classes off again?” Bobby grumbled.

“Ain't no need to cancel classes when everyone walks to class,” the other man shrugged.

Bobby's ears picked up the familiar sound of a certain, classic Impala.

‘Bout time, them idjits showed up. Shoulda been here hours ago, he thought silently.

Bobby and the other maintenance man walked along the sidewalk running parallel to the creek that bisected campus. When the Impala stopped at the Student Center he turned to his co-worker.

“I'll be right with you. Think I'll see if Miss Edna needs anything.” Everyone on campus knew and liked the elderly woman who worked part-time at the bookstore. She knew every student, faculty and staff member by name. 

Bobby set the ladder down in front of the Work-Study Office and crossed the street to meet the boys. He walked into the Student Center without glancing over at them, a sign to stay silent. A moment later the boys parked roadside and followed the older Hunter inside.

“C'mon, catch up,” Bobby groused to himself as he lagged on his way to the men's room at the end of the hall beyond the Student Center's foyer.

Once inside the men's room Bobby turned to them.

“Hey, Bobby. What've you got for us?” Dean began once Sam had checked the stalls and locked the door.

“EMF around here's higher than my cholesterol. Where you been anyway? I was expecting you last night.”

“Have you seen the weather outside?” Dean hitched a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the snow and ice. Bobby only eyed him.

“What's the word on the missing girl, Bobby?” Sam redirected.

“She was found a couple days ago, cause of death is multiple skull fractures. Same as the girl in the 80's and the one in December.” All three stood silent for a moment, lost in thought.

“Cops have any suspects?” Dean broke in.

“Not yet. They're locking down the campus at dark and telling everyone to travel in pairs. Common sense stuff.” Bobby shrugged.

***    

The three talked for a bit before Bobby left. Dean and Sam found their way to the Admissions Office. They'd missed the first day of registration, leaving them to fall in with the freshman registering. Ordinarily, students registering late had to take whatever classes were left over but thanks to Bobby's excellent hacking skills, the brothers managed to squeeze into a variety of classes. The farther they spread the more people they met and the more potential evidence to go on. He'd also graciously forged their financial aid papers.

Hustling from one end of campus to the other in the snow allowed them to get the lay of the land and observe as they went. It seemed that most of the student body either knew each other or were at least familiar with one another. Students carried on conversations all around them, catching up on gossip and what happened over the holidays.

***


	2. Susan

**The Hunger Din …**

**A Few Days Later …**

“Oops, excuse me,” a deep, male voice spoke after an arm barely brushed Susan's.

“Sorry,” She turned from the salad bar, looking up and up at a stranger, into a smiling pair of brown eyes beneath shaggy brown hair. At five feet ten in her bare feet, she rarely had to look up to anyone.

“It's busy in here,” she remarked, pulling her gaze back to her tray.

“Yeah. Uh, hey, I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean.” He motioned toward a marginally older guy studying the dessert table. Sugar cookies and various flavors of frostings set out for people to choose their own. Turning at the sound of his name, the other young man gave Susan a megawatt smile. Her gaze zoomed in on the greenest green eyes she'd ever seen in real life.

Gotta be contacts, she thought to herself.

“Hey,” the other one, Dean, nodded.

“Where ya'll from?” Susan heard herself say.

Lame-o there, Susan, she chastised herself silently.

“Kansas,” Sam answered, snagging an apple from the salad bar. Looking at his tray, Susan spotted vegetables, a small piece of meat and a glass of white milk. His brother's tray on the other hand sported two pieces of pizza, a cheeseburger, fries and two sugar cookies topped with blue icing and sprinkles.

“We're transferring in. ALC has a good reputation for academics.” Sam made conversation while Dean's eerily green eyes surveyed the dining area. Susan watched his gaze travel from the Greenhouse dining area to the dish room window and along with a long legged blonde in tight jeans, a form fitting v-neck and cowboy boots.

Of course it would be Karlie, Susan bristled. The underclassman was one of the few girls on campus taller than Susan and she flaunted it. Everywhere.

Farrah Fawcett wannabe, Susan thought, keeping a neutral expression on her face as she and Sam traded majors and advisers. They had a history class together on Monday, Wednesday and Fridays.

“Dr. Smyth takes some getting use to but she's a good egg, just slightly cracked,” Susan joked about the history professor she'd signed on to take three classes under that semester.

“Too much learnin'll fry your brain, right, Sammy?” Dean teased, Karlie finally out of sight. Susan caught sight of friends she'd been waiting for and missed Sam's reply.

“It's good to meet you. I'll see you around,” Susan excused herself and followed an extraordinarily petite brunette and a a curvy auburn haired girl though the serving line.

“Who were they?”

Susan saw Belinda cock her head in Sam and Dean's direction. The brothers had taken a seat by the windows looking out at campus. From there the view either looked up at Lily Dorm, the Meadow or Campbell Art Center; CAC for short. Most pronounced the acronym so quickly it sounded like a cat hacking up a hairball.

“Transfers from Kansas. Sam and Dean. Heaven only knows how they got lost and ended up here.” Susan rolled her eyes. Anyone out of state was termed a foreigner or 'feriner' as the accent slurred the word. Those from farther away than Louisville must surely have gotten lost or sent as punishment in her eyes. ALC suited her fine but if you had as many options as these fellas, why choose the Lloyd?

“Well, they are easy on the eyes,” Sherrie, the extraordinarily petite brunette commented with a delighted sparkle to her eyes.

“Like we need anymore pretty boys around here,” Susan scoffed as they took a table in the back dining area, near the ice cream cooler.

“There's no such thing as too many pretty boys,”Belinda grinned, taking a bite of her pizza slice. All three young women laughed.

****

“Lot X. Where the hell is Lot X?” Dean looked at the parking sticker he'd bought for the Impala. The knowing grin on Sam's face didn't ease his anxiety in the least.

“Technically, it's off the main campus. It's across the road from the gates, near the maintenance building.”

Dean nearly swallowed his tongue. He'd only recently rebuilt the classic muscle car. Letting it out of his sight was out of the question.

“Off campus! I can't leave the car,” he lowered his voice, “our arsenal, off campus. What if it gets broken into? How would we explain sawed off shotguns, holy water and lambs' blood?” the elder brother questioned.

“Look, Bobby's in and out of the maintenance building all day. He'll look after the car. There are nightly patrols.” Dean huffed at his brother's reassurances.

“We can't take the arsenal into the dorm. The Resident Advisers do room checks twice a month and there's Open House when the girls are allowed in the boys' dorms and vice versa alternately. All the doors are supposed to be open and feet on the floor.” Sam explained patiently.

“The dorms aren't co-ed!!” Dean nearly screeched.

“Nope, segregated.” Sam grinned at Dean's stricken expression.

“Great, no Impala, no women, work-study; what else kinda hell is there?” Dean ground out as they walked toward the boys' dorm.

“No alcohol either, Dean.” Sam informed him oh so helpfully; gleefully even.

“Might as well give me a straight jacket now.”

Sam chuckled at his brother's frustration with the rules of the conservative college. It wasn't everyone's cup of tea. Those who found that they couldn't conform didn't last very long.

Dean checked his watch, “I'll catch up with you later, I got class in a minute and then tutoring in the Computer Lab.” He jogged across the wooden foot bridge over Caney Creek to save time. Sam frowned. His brother didn't carry even a notebook.

Typical jock, he thought with a shake of the head.

Sam hitched his backpack up on his shoulder as he headed into the McGaw Library and Learning Center, housing the Computer Lab on the first floor and the library on the second. The squat, modern building didn't quite fit in with the college's more rustic buildings of local stone. The snow had quit the night before, allowing bitter cold to set in. A keen wind didn't help matters.

Inside, the first floor boasted the REA or the Ralph Edwards Auditorium to the left and the Computer Lab to the right. Between the two sat a small lounge, two arm chairs, a long sofa and the obligatory end table, lamp and potted plant. The entrance to the stairwell leading to the library proper broke up the front wall. Opposite him, on the sofa sat a young couple almost on top of one another. Neither of them noticed Sam Winchester.

“I, uh.” he smiled awkwardly, “I'll just,” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder before turning around to exit again. He decided his question could wait.

“Finally, the library,” he commented as he opened the single door to a small, by Stanford standards, college library. Sam casually walked the stacks, noting that the majority of the shelf space seemed dedicated to reference materials and biographies. A small classroom of about twenty desks lay situated in a rear hall behind the circulation desk, the only concession to classes. Next, a room of original pieces of furniture, decor and books lined the walls.

“Jackpot!” Sam muttered, closing the door behind him before switching on the lights. Scanning the book titles along the wall he found early editions of both Brownings, Kipling, Dickens and other, obscure tomes. On one shelf he found June Buchanan's journals. From what he'd researched about ALC she'd been inspired by Alice Lloyd to come to the rough, rural area to teach and enrich the lives of the locals. Not all of the locals had been welcoming to either women. The Appalachian culture hadn't changed much since the era of Shakespeare. They viewed these outsiders with both distrust and curiosity. The Civil War and the Hatfield and McCoy Feud resided within living memory. The feud hadn't been over very long when Alice Lloyd and her mother, Ella Geddes arrived from Boston, Massachusetts.

“Double jackpot!” Sam eased his backpack off and slid the moldy, leather book inside.

“Young man! I demand to know why you have my things.”

Sam whirled around at the sound of a harsh, female voice. A woman in her seventies stared back, her mouth drawn.

“What the …” Sam reached for his weapons surreptitiously hidden in his coat and backpack.

“Well, young man!” Miss June demanded again, stepping closer.

“I, uh,” he hesitated.

“Those are MY journals. How dare a miscreant like you, out of uniform, in need of a haircut and shave, presume to steal MY journals!” The temperature dropped significantly in the already chilly room. Sam's breath fogged in front of his face as he stared at the apparition. He also felt the tingle of static electricity all around him. The hair on his arms and neck rose.

“I'm investigating the murder of Lynn Howard. Your journals might answer some questions.” He reached into his hip pocket for brass knuckles specially made of iron.

“Miss Howard's murderer was found. The case is closed.” Miss June eyed him suspiciously.

“Another girl, Daisy, has been killed the same was as Lynn Howard. Please, we may be able to stop it from happening again.” The static electricity began to dissipate though she still studied Sam. Those brown, puppy dog eyes worked every time.

“Hmm,” Miss June sniffed, “Very well, young man, but know that I WILL be watching you.”

“Yes, Miss June. Thank you.” Sam began to relax, though the idea of a ghost watching him wasn't pleasant.

Sam opened the door a bit and looked both ways before stepping into the hall. Downstairs, he headed into the Computer Lab. A few minutes later Dean and half the baseball team strutted in.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean plopped down in a roller chair beside his brother. The other team members took seats nearby. From his peripheral vision he saw a rotund blonde girl come stomping toward the laughing, joking knot of players.

“Hello, boys,” her voice drew the syllables out in a nasal tone.

“Hey, Alana,” one of the boys greeted her warily.

“Gotta go,” Dean indicated the young woman.

“Dean, we need to talk.” Sam hoped to tell him about his encounter with Miss June.

“I'll see you at the Hunger Din.” Dean flashed him an excited smile.

Food.

“Alright,” the younger Winchester frowned. On the bright side, it would give him time to read the journals and make notes.

***


	3. Vintage Ghost

**The Hunger Din …**

**Two weeks later …**

In keeping with the ALC tradition the cafeteria, located in the Student Center, had a unique story. Initially named for “Gunga Din”, the students instead named it the Hunger Din; a better fit anyway. Susan doubted many of her fellow students had read Kipling's “Gunga Din” and probably only knew the author's  _ The Jungle Book _ from the 1960's animated film. She began to hum the words to the movie's catchy, main song as she unzipped her gray, Carhart hoodie and hung it on a hook along the wall outside the cafeteria. She settled in to wait for supper alone. Looking around Susan noticed both stags and wallflowers in line. Couples held hands and made starry eyes at one another as they waited.

Gag me with a spoon, Susan thought with jealousy.

“Hey, Susan,” the voice she least wanted to hear called from behind her. Susan cringed.

“Hey, Brandy,” The tall, chubby redhead joined Susan at her place farther up the line, using Susan's place in line to her advantage. Before Brandy could begin talking about either her favorite Led Zeppelin song or whatever hot guy she'd banged over the holidays a laughing group of baseball players sauntered by. They nodded and gave casual waves to their friends.

“Ooh, who's that?” Brandy asked, tossing her long, red hair over her shoulder before pulling her blouse to cover her perpetually visible, lace trimmed bra.

“Ball players,” came Susan's indifferent reply.

“The two new ones.” Brandy 's voice carried like a klaxon despite the volume of voices all around.

“Sam and Dean, transfers from Kansas.” The opening of the double doors into the Hunger Din interrupted Susan before she could fill her former roommate in on further details.

Promptly at five PM the doors to the cafeteria opened and the student body, as well as professors and their families, began shuffling toward the hot bars. Everyone funneled left or right, picking up their trays, plates, flatware and then splitting into two lines, one for each hot bar serving the main course. Work-Study students manned the bars, dishing out Reuben sandwiches.

Brandy's plate full of pizza, her attention had moved on from the transfers from Kansas. Susan's hadn't. She still wondered what two, good looking guys with enough money to pay out of state tuition were doing at the Lloyd. It seemed too coincidental, especially with the disappearance and murder of Daisy only weeks before. The whole campus buzzed with theories about the terrible incident.

“Hello, Susan,” Dr. Taylor, her adviser and favorite history professor greeted her. The elderly gentleman reminded her of her great aunts and uncles.

“Hey, Doctor Taylor,” Susan greeted him with a genuine smile.

Again, she felt someone brush her shoulder. 

“Uh, Doctor Taylor, do you have a minute?” Sam had the good grace to look bashful that he'd interrupted when he came around Susan.

“Of course, ah, Sam, isn't it?” The older gentleman began making himself a salad from the cold bar situated in the main dining area. Susan, too wanted a salad or she would have bid the professor good evening and found a seat. Instead, she found a salad bowl and began filling it with broccoli, cherry tomatoes, ham cubes and thousand island dressing. Lettuce is for rabbits. Susan moved along the salad bar to the thousand island dressing and gave her self-styled salad a drizzle of the delicious sauce. As she scooted along she listened Sam and Dr. Taylor’s conversation.

“Have you taught at Alice Lloyd College long?” Sam asked conversationally.

“Only a few years,” Dr. Taylor answered. 

“You seem to know the college so well, I just assumed …” Sam shrugged instead of finishing his sentence. The spry, elderly gentleman proceeded to give the young man a quick rendition of his background; boyhood as a Baptist preacher’s son, Ivy League education and a few highlights of his teaching career. Susan had taken several of Taylor’s classes and therefore knew the bulk of his stories. 

“Who’s taught here the longest? I bet they know all the best stories,” Sam queried as he loaded up on lettuce, cheese, sliced tomatoes, and all manner of greens, no dressing. Something about the question sounded off to Susan; too probing. 

Why is he interested in stories about this place, she wondered. That’s what Leadership 101 is for. She rolled her eyes. The class didn’t transfer and might as well have been titled “A History of ALC and Dr. Daniels”, a least for the first eight weeks. After that Dr. Andrews, the librarian, took over and missed half the classes with a bad back. He also taught Special Studies: Sub Saharan Africa. 

“Dr. Daniels has been here probably twenty years,” Dr. Taylor answered. Susan glimpsed Dr. Taylor and the new student walking toward a table near the windows. It wasn’t uncommon for students and professors to mingle outside of class, especially at the Hunger Din. Susan wished she could invite herself to sit with Dr. Taylor and Sam but Brandy  had already chosen a table for them. The senior sighed as she sat down, determining to keep an eye on the new comer. 

***  

**A few days later** ... 

Lynn smiled out at the world, forever eighteen in the picture and in death. Most of the boys living in the dorm named for her sauntered by the 11X14 framed portrait. But the tall, inquisitive young man standing before the fram studying her intrigued the ghost underneath. HIs eyes shone with intelligence and humor. She’d felt his gaze often over the last few days. 

Today his gaze seemed to pull her out of the aether, his will compelling her forward. A few people over the years had seen Lynn Howard but none of willingly and some of them unknowingly.

“There’s someone out there killing girls just like Jacobs killed you. Help us find the murderer.” 

Earnest, that’s how his voice sounded to Lynn. She boldly materialized to his left. 

“Hello,” Lynn spoke tentatively.

“Hi. I’m Sam Winchester.” He gave her a dazzling smile.

“I’m Lynn. How can I help find the killer?” She hooked her thumbs into the pockets of her acid washed jeans as she assessed Sam.

“Tell me about what happened to you?” Sam slipped his hands into his coat pockets.

“You don’t pull any punches, do you?” 

He looked away, bashful for a moment.

“I was on my way from Cushing Hall to class. A raggedy pick-up truck stopped alongside. The driver called out so I moved closer. Next thing I know I was in the truck and he sped away. He ended up in the woods near one of the strip mines.” Lynn  looked away, her eyes closed a moment before a tear slipped from her eye. Sam reached out to wipe the drop away but felt only chilled air. 

Lynn gave a half-hearted smile.

“Thanks for trying.” She blinked her tears away.

“Lynn, can you take me to where you died or tell me how to get there?” Sam hated to keep dredging up such a horrible tragedy but knowing may save someone else.

“I don’t ... “ She began to shake her head.

“Yo, Sammy. Who have we here?” 

Both Lynn and Sam turned at the sound of a deep, male voice from across the lobby. He came swaggering up, a smile on his face but suspicion in his eyes. When he approached Lynn sensed Sam tense.

“Dean, this is ... “

“Whoa, ghost chick.” Dean looked from Lynn to her picture on the wall, his mouth a perfect circle as realization sank in.

“Dean, this is Lynn Howard,” Sam introduced, giving his brother the stink eye.

“Uh, hello,” Dean flashed a quick smile.

“Lynn was just telling me about that night.” Neither brother could look her in the eye. 

“Hey, Dean, ready for the Weight Room?” Hatfield, another baseball player, yelled from across the lobby.

“Yeah, just a minute.” Both Sam and Dean looked back to see an empty spot where Lynn once stood.

“Huh.” Dean lifted his eyebrows a moment. 

“Anyway, we’ll talk about it later.” Dean hean headed toward the Howard-Berger wing stairwell.

“Later.” Sam gave a heavy sigh. He hadn’t seen much of his brother while undercover. Class, the Weight Room, practice or tutoring kept him busy. Always something. It wasn’t lost on him that Dean must have felt the same way when Sam had been at Stanford.

Guess I’ll go catch Bobby up to speed, Sam decided. 

****     

Bobby walked out of the Maintenance Building carrying an unwieldy aluminum ladder. He noticed a familiar figure coming across the narrow bridge between Lot X and the Maintenance Building lot.

Looks like that boy’s got something eatin’ him, Bobby thought silently. The elder Hunter had an inkling as to the cause. The Winchester brothers knew each other inside and out, but Bobby knew the brothers.

“Hey, Bobby. Got a minute?” Sam adjusted the backpack he carried, his left hand in his jeans pocket. 

“Yeah, but be quick about it. Gotta help John Doe on the Students Center roof.” Bobby hitched his thumb toward the thirty-something guy he worked alongside. 

“Lynn  Howard appeared to me in Howard Dorm lobby. She says she can tell us where Jacobs killed her. Before she could though we were interrupted. Dean saw her too.” 

“Keep on it. We need to make a trip to Jacobs’s prison, talk to the warden and such.” 

“Okay, tomorrow. Dean and I have to clean for inspection. There’s Open House tonight.” Sam and Bobby traded knowing looks. Dean was a slob to live with and a small dorm room didn’t help matters.

“Alright. Let me know what you turn up.” The two parted ways.

****   

After supper most students bundled up and headed back to the dorms for last minute cleaning. Susan preferred to work this quiet time at the Craft Shop located on the first floor of the Work-study building. Most of the other girls had already clocked out for the day. They were expecting boyfriends and their friends for Open House. Susan never had guests. 

Still, no one wanted to wrap Christmas presents or put together Christmas ornaments any longer than necessary. Donors and alumni received the ornaments while local, low-income kids got the presents. There were only so many cans of Play Doh one could wrap before running down campus screaming.

By eight o’clock Susan had hit her limit. She pulled on her Carhart coat, collected her backpack and headed for the door. She’d already cleaned her room for inspection and wasn’t expecting any guest for Open House; male or female. Stopping to pull the Craft Shop door closed she caught sight of a flashlight beam across the creek in Miss June’s guest house. 

“Hmm, wonder what’s up?” Curious, she hitched her backpack higher onto her shoulder and began strolling up campus. She’d been a Guest House Janitor her sophomore year and knew all the houses. Miss June’s was in the center of campus and she’d gotten to work most days early to watch  _ Angel the Series _ on TNT. Now she watched the flicker of lights move around the small, two bedroom house.

Sloppy amateurs, she thought with a head shake. She stood on the front porch looking through the sheer, white curtains. 

“Ah, the Winchester brothers, that explains things.” Just as Susan began to step back an older lady appeared in the living room to the right of the window. It took the brothers longer to place the woman than it did Susan.

“Miss June,” she breathed.

“I knew it! They’re here about the ghosts.” Mind racing, she turned and left the small stone house. She had to get up the Donkey Trail to Lily Dorm, had to be alone to think.

****     

**(Winchester POV)**

“Eww, old lady clothes.” 

Sam turned from looking into the back bedroom to see Dean shining his flashlight into the hall closet. An assortment of of polyester dresses hung to one side. Sam shook his head when his brother pulled out a burnt orange dress and held it up against him.

Such a dork, Sam thought, shaking his head.

“What do you think, Sammy?” Dean asked with a mischievous smile as he struck a pose.

“Dude, put that back,” younger brother warned. 

“Yes, please do,” a clipped, female voice spoke from the edge of the living room.

Dean dropped the dress and both brothers rushed to the living area. Both had their handguns drawn.

“Son. Of. A.” A reprimanding glare from Miss June stopped him cold.

“Dean, this is Miss June Buchanan. She generously allowed me to borrow her journals,” Sam introduced, quickly stowing his weapon. He watched as his brother reluctantly lowered his handgun as well.

“Another ruffian. At least this one has had a proper haircut and a shave.” Miss June glanced over Dean with a critical eye.

Dean gave his brother a smug look.

“Young man, gloating is a most unbecoming quality,” she spoke sharply. Once both young men had schooled their features Miss June continued.

“What do you have to report on the missing girl?” She stood by the fireplace, hands clasped in front of her. The brothers felt a cold draft and wondered if it were the ghost or the poorly insulated, ill-maintained house.

“Jacobs is dead but we can’t rule out a copycat killer,” Sam spoke up. 

“We’re on our way to female Open House to visit Daisy’s roommate,” Dean pitched in. 

“And your accomplice, Mr. Singer?”   

The brothers exchanged glances.

“You’d have to ask him,” Dean answered flatly.

“Perhaps I will.” Miss June disappeared within a blink.

“Man, I miss the days when we shot rock salt at ghosts instead of answered to ‘em.” The elder Winchester brother shook his head. 

“C’mon, let’s go talk to some real, live girls. That’ll cheer you up,” Sam put his arm around his shorter brother’s shoulder, a shit eating grin splitting his face.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Dean chuckled.

**** 


	4. Man on the Floor

**Female Open House …**

**Lily Dorm …**

Susan made it up the Donkey Trail to Lily Dorm in record time. She didn’t see the crowd of guys   milling around, eyeing each other and passing girls simultaneously. Instead, she charged through the lobby to her first floor east wing room. Unlocking the door Susan fumbled twice. Thankfully, she roomed solo, unusual for a small college with a housing shortage. 

Did I just see what I think I saw, Susan asked herself as she off-loaded her backpack onto the spare bed. 

I did NOT just witness the Winchester brothers talking to Miss June. And she talked back! All I’ve ever seen his her floating past the doorway.

Susan pondered it all as she began laying off her coat, hat and gloves. Her suspicions had been right. The Winchesters were more than they appeared. But what? White knights or villians?

Sitting on the foot of her bed, still wondering, Susan heard ‘Man on the floor!’. The intruders had arrived. Voices of both guys and girls rose in volume. Doors, including Susan’s, had to be propped open so roving R.A’s could monitor goings on.

“Just great!” Susan huffed, digging out the rubber wedge she used to hold open her door. She didn’t hate men, just the fact that she didn’t have one. Being single turned her green with envy sometimes. But then Susan remembered all the things she could do to be sociable and instead felt sorry for herself. 

I always feel so damn awkward and dumb around people my age, she bemoaned mentally. 

If someone’s gonna trip, fall, spill or choke, it’s me, she sighed, taking a seat at the double desk between the twin beds.

A few hundred games of Solitaire should take my mind off of everything. Unknown to Susan the Winchester brothers were headed to Lily first floor east wing.

****

“Where’s this girl’s room again, Sammy?” Dean scanned the lobby, eyes bright with excitement.

“First floor, this way. End of the hall,” Sam answered, more intrigued by the view of campus below. 

“C’mon, this way,” Dean pointed toward the fire door diagonal to the lobby entrance. The brothers made the rounds, talking to Dean’s teammates and a few of Sam’s classmates before heading for the first floor.

“Man on the floor!!” Dean shouted, followed by Sam’s longsuffering “Dean,” a moment later.

****

**Susan’s Room …**

Susan heard the boom of a basso voice only feet from her door. An accompanying snicker did nothing to quell the spike of panic in her throat. 

Ah, crap! They saw me after all, her mind conjured. When their rumbling voices moved on down the hall Susan relaxed.

If they’re not here for me, why are they here, she pondered. 

“Duh!” She shook her head. “Shoulda thought of it sooner,” she muttered under her breath. 

“They want to talk to Celia. Vultures.” Celia had moved down from the third floor after Daisy’s death the previous semester. 

Susan pondered her next move. As she paced backward and forward she heard Brandy’s voice coming through the vent.

“Eureka!” Susan barely managed not to shout. She snatched up her Econ 110 text and notebook, hoofing it down to the next to last door; the one beside Celia’s. 

TAP, TAP, TAP

Susan struck her head into Chrissy’s room. 

“Hey, wanna study?”

Chrissy looked up from a  _ People _ magazine with Ellen DeGeneres on the cover.

“What the hell for?” the other girl scoffed. She had an A in the class while the professor giving Susan a C would be a colossal gift. Chrissy looked down from the top bunk, arms crossed. She and Susan hadn’t parted as roommates under the best of terms. Susan had worked over the holiday break and moved into a room by herself without telling Chrissy anything. 

“Please. I don’t REALLY have to study. I need to eavesdrop on the conversation next door,” Susan stage whispered desperately. 

“Well that’s different.” Chrissy scooted her throw pillows and blankets out of the way as Susan climbed up to sit at the foot, near the vent which ran along the ceiling. 

“What are we listening for?” Chrissy whispered loudly.

“Shhh. There’s two guys next door talking to Celia about Daisy. I wanna know what they’re up to,” Susan growled, her brows drawn over fierce gray-blue eyes. 

“Gawd,” the other girl huffed before retrieving her magazine. 

***

**CELIA’S ROOM …**

Though the door stood open Sam tapped to be polite. Two startled faces looked up from the twin bed opposite the visitors.

“Hey, Lori. Thought I’d drop by, introduce you to my brother, Dean.” Sam stepped in but his brother stood in the doorway, filling most of the available space.

“Uh, hi. I’m Lori,” the one to the left introduced, her voice a soft as a child’s with China blue eyes to match.

“This is Celia.” Lori nudged her roommate who sat in a battered wooden chair. Celia gave them a closed lipped smile. Her brown eyes clear and wide, were haunted.

“Mind if we sit down?” Sam motioned toward the other chair at Celia’s elbow.

“Yeah, come on in.” Lori set aside the Bible laying open in her lap. She smoothed her wispy hair back from cream skin dotted with freckles. Sam perched at the foot of Celia’s bed while Dean remained standing, arms crossed.

“I missed Dr. Taylors class yesterday and I was wondering if I could copy your notes?” Sam began, shifting when he saw Dean lift an annoyed eyebrow.

“Sure. Let me get my notebook,” Lori  shrugged.

The brothers looked around the girls’ dorm room in silence. Pastel colors dominated. A small TV sat between a microwave and dorm fridge. A laundry basket sat at the foot of Lori ’s bed.

“I heard you were that dead girl’s roommate,” Dean stated flatly.

“Dean!” Sam warned, leaning forward. 

Lori had frozen halfway through digging in her blue and gray backpack. Celia’s eyes widened before she pulled herself up straighter in the chair.

“Daisy was my roommate AND my friend,” she answered frankly, eyes held fast on Dean.

“Who was Daisy going to meet that day?” The young man’s tone and expression remained impassive while at his side Sam’s big hazel eyes emoted apology.

“Ezra. She met him at the beginning of the semester at Hindman First Baptist Church Youth Group. They’d been talking for a while but it was their first actual date.” She’d replayed it all before. Talking to Sam and Dean, it came out dusty dry despite the helplessness in her eyes.

“Does Ezra still go to Alice Lloyd College?” Dean pressed.

“No. He goes to Hazard Community and Technical College. A few of their students go to youth group. There’s just more of us from the Lloyd ‘cause there’s not much else to do and the Lloyd lets Baptist Ministries run a bus, sometimes two.” Celia ran her fingers through her thick, brown hair tiredly. 

Dean lifted a brow. Celia made an odd sort of sense. 

“I guess we should be going,” Sam spoke, easing himself up from his perch. For a moment Lori  wondered if his head would brush the ceiling tile. 

“Yeah. Sammy here has withdraw if he hasn’t studied in a while,” Dean quipped. 

“Thanks, Lori,” Sam indicated the spiral notebook she’d handed him. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, give it back.” With a wave Sam led his brother out the door. Celia and Lori watched them leave in silence. 

**Next Door …**

**Susan’s POV …**

“What the hell was that about?” Chrissy voiced Susan’s thought exactly.

“Those are the new guys. O.M.G. they are hot,” Chrissy commented. Susan jerked her head around to stare at her former roommate.

“What?! I’m lesbian, not blind.” 

Susan grinned at her friend and shook her head.

“They ARE hot!” Susan agreed, thinking about the first time she’d looked up and up and up into Sam’s eyes.

“Who is that Ezra guy they were talking about?” Chrissy wondered since she didn’t go to Youth Group.

“I don’t know, but I’m gonna find out. Tomorrow is Wednesday. I’ll ask around then.” 

After catching up for a few minutes Susan returned to her solo room, her Sanctuary of Solitude.

****

**Lot X …**

After female Open House, Sam and Dean met Bobby at the Maintenance Building. The senior Hunter let them in the side door.

“Damn, it’s cold,” Dean shivered as he brushed snow off his heavy coat. Bobby shook his head before taking a sip of steaming coffee.

“Learn anything from Daisy’s roommate?”

Sam poured two mugs of coffee from the greasy percolator behind a squat, metal desk littered with paperwork.

“Here,” He handed a cup to Dean.

“Yeah. The guy Daisy was supposed to meet was an HCTC student, Ezra. It was their first, official date.” Sam took an abused, leather chair, sitting in it backward.

“I finally tracked down Jacobs’s psychiatrist. We have an eleven o’clock meet an’ greet tomorrow, me and Dean. Sam, you snoop around on this Ezra guy.” Bobby tossed Sam his keys.

“Be sure to use the parking break and go easy on the clutch. I haveta replace it when I get home,” he warned the younger Winchester.

“Will do, Bobby.” Sam hid a pleased grin behind his coffee mug.    

**** 


	5. The Castle on the Cumberland

**Wednesday …**

Bobby grumbled steadily as he listened to the phone ring. On the sixth ring he finally got an answer. 

“What the hell? It’s 5 AM, Bobby,” Dean complained loudly.

“Good morning to you, too. Be dressed and ready in twenty minutes. I’ll bring the car around,” and then he hung up. 

“C’mon, Sammy.” Dean slapped the underside of his brother’s bunk.

“I’m up,” the younger Winchester grumbled, hanging his head over the side. Dean rolled his eyes at the silky sheet of brown hair falling around his brother’s face.

Sam pulled on his usual flannel shirt and jeans while Dean helped himself to Sam’s spare dress shirt and tie.

“Bobby’s waiting,” Sam warned, catching his older brother perfecting his sexy smolder in the mirror.

“I’ll be down in a sec.” Dean turned first one way then another. 

“The sooner the better, Blue Steel,” Sam teased. The brothers bickered back and forth all the way to the Impala.

****   

**Down Campus …**

**Wednesday …**

Susan switched her alarm off and then wiped sleep out of her eyes. She flipped the overhead light switch on before grabbing her shower caddy and big, terry cloth robe. By seven AM she’d showered, dressed and walked down the Donkey Trail to the Hunger Din for breakfast. As she loaded up on biscuit and gravy Susan formulated a game plan for the day. 

First came an eight AM class, work-study, lunch, class at one PM, work-study and class at three PM. After that she debated going back to the Craft Shop for a while before supper and Youth Group. 

Ah, I’ll see how I feel after classes, she thought, sitting down with her breakfast and orange juice. No time later Susan slid her tray through the window into the dish room. 

Glad I don’t work there anymore, she mused. She didn’t miss any of those long, humid hours over lunch stacking nasty dishes and flatware. No more JBS brats throwing stuff and leaving a mess. 

Susan kept her eyes and ears open as she plowed through her day. She didn’t see Sam or Dean at breakfast or lunch and Sam didn’t show up to class. By the end of her last class Susan’s curiosity burned.

Wonder if they’ll go to Youth Group tonight, she wondered. Susan half hoped they would. 

I better make sure I get to the bus on-time and quit worrying about those feriners, she reasoned with a head shake.

****   

**Leaving Knott County …**

Dean and Bobby had left Knott County at five thirty AM heading west toward Lyon County and the Kentucky State Penitentiary at Eddyville. Sam planned to dig into Ezra’s background while they investigated Jacobs’s. 

By mutual agreement Dean and Bobby stopped in Hazard for large coffees and sausage egg biscuits. 

“Let me drive. You yawn any bigger your head’ll cave in,” Bobby’s gruff voice cut through the cold air tinged with breath fog and coal truck exhaust. Dean stopped in his tracks, coffee cup halfway to his lips.

“What? I was drivin’ a hell of a long time ‘fore you were born.” The older Hunter fastened his dark eyes on his adopted son. He remembered the scrawny, tow headed kid John Winchester had first dropped off at Singer Salvage. The kid had been a lot more attached to baby Sam than their father.

“Sure, Bobby. I could use some shut eye.” Dean tossed the Impala’s keys over and headed for the passenger side door.

“‘Sides, you got crappy taste in music.” Bobby heard Dean strangle on his coffee, but to his credit the younger Hunter didn’t argue or pout. 

Bobby drove west for the next four hours while Dean dozed. Outside Bowling Green the elder Hunter slapped Dean on the shoulder to point out the Corvette Museum.

“Dude, we gotta check that out on the way back,” Dean suggested. Corvettes weren’t his precious Impala but he could still appreciate a fast car.

“Look alive, kid. We’re about to start the show.” Both men straightened in their seat as Bobby steered the Impala toward downtown Eddyville and the “Castle on the Cumberland” beyond.

A huge, metal water tower stood lookout above the stone edifice built in the late 1870’s. Razor wire ran the perimeter, stopping only on either side of the guard shack at the entrance. Bobby and Dean produced their FBI badges to a beady eyed guard more interested in the heat of his guard shack than two suit and tie feds. 

Dean and Bobby surveyed the stone walls soberly, knowing the history of Kentucky’s only maximum security prison, the official executions, murders and violence committed within. It gave both chills, though they’d never admit it.

“Who are we seein’ first, the warden or Jacobs’s shrink?” Dean asked, the silence too much.

“Warden Erickson first, then the shrink. First things first; we better leave our weapons here.” 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered darkly. “Might as well walk in there naked with a bar of soap,” he complained.

“Thanks for the mental image there, idjit.” Bobby shot him a dirt look. Dean shook his head. He felt naked without his Colt 1911 and the rest of his kit. Bobby and Dean divested themselves of everything but Holy Water in an Aquafina bottle.  

“I’d feel better with back up,” Dean groused, twisting the cap tighter on the water bottle. 

“C’mon already, you’re waistin’ time.” Bobby led the way toward the one hundred and forty year old building. Neither one of them relished the thought of the raw evil lurking inside.

“Son of a … I thought they were gonna strip search us back there,” Dean spoke as he adjusted his tie after slipping his suit jacket back on. Guards had insisted they slip out of their shoes, jackets, turn out their pockets and stand for a metal detector wand. 

“What is it with you and gettin’ necked today? Boy, you’re makin’ me uneasy.” Bobby gave him a sideways look as they walked toward the warden’s office. Prison motif extended to the administration wing; black and white checkerboard tile floors, slate gray walls and off-white fire doors dotted the hall on both sides. 

“When we get in here let me do the talkin’, especially if you don’t want to end up in a jumpsuit in here,” the older Hunter warned. Dean rolled his eyes.

Warden Erickson occupied a large corner office at the end of the corridor. Tall and rangy, the warden surveyed his visitors with keen, blue eyes.

“Agent Whitley, Agent Skaggs, good morning.” Erickson shook hands with the Hunters, a solid, dry grasp. The three men sat down at a small, round table in the corner of the office. A coffee pot and a collection of sugar packets sat at the back.

“To get down to brass tacks, Agent Skaggs and I are looking into Burt Jacobs. There may be a copycat killer.” If Bobby’s statement surprised Erickson he didn’t let on. The Warden leaned back in the folding chair, his face impassive. 

“I hadn’t heard anything about that. The feds must be keeping it close to the vest.”

Dean felt like squirming in his seat but resisted. 

“It involves a small college campus, wouldn’t want to scare away students,” Bobby explained. 

“I don’t know what I can tell you. Everything’s in his file I’m sure,” Erickson drawled. 

“We’d like to see his cell, if possible.” Bobby stood, prompting Dean and Warden Erickson to rise.

“I’ll show you down there myself.” The warden stopped by his secretary’s desk before he led them through a warren of hallways and security checkpoints to Death Row. All three men shivered as they walked through a cold spot halfway down the row of cells. Weak sunlight filtered through large, barred windows to the left. Inmates, what few existed there, either stared up a gray sky or at grayer walls. 

“Here it is.” Erickson motioned to three cardboard storage boxes sitting on a narrow cot along the wall.

“The next-of-kin refused the belongings.” He frowned thoughtfully. 

“Let one of the guards know when you’re finished, gentlemen. Best of luck.” Warden Erickson nodded then turned and left.

“Hey, Bobby, you feel that cold spot back there?” Dean stage whispered. 

“Haveta bee a reptile not to. This place is crawlin’ with spirits. Hush up and help me sort through this stuff.” Each Hunter took a box and began laying the contents out on the cot. 

“What are we gonna find that, ah, OTHERS, didn’t?” Dean asked halfway through the second box.

“I reckon you’re right.” Bobby stood up straight, his face pulled into a grimace. When he heaved a sigh it exploded into fog which trailed upward. Dean’s eyes widened when his breath swirled around a ceiling tile in a bullseye.

Being the taller, and younger, of the two Dean hoisted himself up on the cot and dislodged the crumbling ceiling tile. A sheaf of loose leaf notebook paper hit him in the face. 

“Huh, what have we here?” Bobby seized the pages as Dean searched for more papers or other objects in the surrounding tiles. 

“C’mon, I think we got what we came for.” Bobby tucked the pages in the back of his slacks as Dean put the storage boxes to rights. 

“We’re ready already,” Bobby called to the guard at the end of the hall.

Again walking through the maze of halls and security checks, Bobby and Dean made their way to Dr. Cale’s office. 

“Dr. Cale, I’m Agent Whitley and this is Agent Skaggs,” Bobby introduced them to the younger man seated behind a second-hand desk.

“Pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Chip. We don’t often have FBI visitors.” 

Dean couldn’t stop a bark of laughter. He hid a smile behind coughing into his fist. 

“We’re investigatin’ the possibility of a copycat killer out in Knott County. A young woman went missing and then turned up dead, same M.O. as Burt Jacobs.” Bobby studied the young man seated across from him, degrees from expensive colleges on the wall behind him. 

“Gentlemen, as you know, doctor-patient confidentiality applies even after death. There isn’t much I can tell you.” Chip peered at them through round, silver framed glasses. 

‘We’d like to know more his interests. Favorite books, hobbies, things like, was Jacobs into the occult? See anything freaky while he was here?” Dean felt Bobby gritting his teeth from two feet away. 

“Kentucky State Penitentiary has a history of apparitions; there’s even a book about it. I’d say everyone has a story,” Cale answered vaguely.

“Don’t mind him, he’s watched too may  _ Unsolved Mysteries  _ episodes,” Bobby apologized, giving Dean a harsh, sideways glare. 

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Cale.” The elder Hunter stood up and shook hands with the psychiatrist. 

“Best of luck on catching the killer.” Cale trailed behind them to the door.

“Thanks, but we make our own luck.”

The Hunters made their way out of the prison and back to the Impala. They soon shed their suit jackets and ties, despite the January chill. Dean adjusted the heat while Bobby steered them through the final security check.

“I can’t take you anywhere. Asking if Jacobs was into the occult like that. Boy, I thought me an’ your daddy taught you better.”

Dean felt himself slump down in the seat just a little at being scolded.

“C’mon, Bobby, you know soft soapin’ people’s always been Sammy’s schtick,” he complained. The pair bickered until they pulled into a Huddle House restaurant. The Americana decor had caught Bobby’s eye. Breakfast anytime suited Dean just fine.

****   


	6. Blizzard

**Pippa Passes …**

Sam heard the Impala before he saw it swing into Lot X. He waited at the bay door of the Maintenance Building for Dean and Bobby to come across the footbridge.

“Hey, how’d it go today?” he asked as he fell into step with his brother and Bobby.

“It went long. My ass is sore,” Bobby groused over his shoulder.

Dean zoomed in on the large take-out bag sitting on the desk.

“Sammy, my hero.” He bit into an overstuffed Philly cheesesteak, his cheeks bulging as he tried to talk around it.

“The shrink was an anal douche and the warden didn’t trust us.”

Bobby rolled his eyes as he laid out his own supper.

“No wonder.” He gave Dean a pointed look before biting into a double decker cheeseburger.

Sam pulled a couple of paper napkins from the white bag emblazoned with The Lighthouse Cafe in navy blue letters and stuffed them in Dean’s shirt pocket. Older brother took the hit and wiped grease and cheese off his chin.

“Someone or something did lead us to this,” Bobby said, tapping the bundle of papers he’d laid on the desk.

Brow creased, Sam picked up the pages and began to scan the top page.

“Looks like pages and pages of him reliving and then repenting at the same time. He left Lynn  Howard’s body where it would be found on purpose. State police caught him with her necklace in his pocket.” Sam shook his head in disgust.

“What’d ya find out about Ezra?” Bobby switched gears, fro wn lines creasing his brow.

“Get this, he’s been a solid A-B student, good attendance, all that. Then everything took a nosedive just after Thanksgiving; just after Jacobs’s execution.”

“Bingo,” Dean gestured with his free hand, a napkin around the last bite of his sandwich.

“You done eating, Dean. We gotta get to Hindman First Baptist by seven.” Sam grabbed his coat from the back of a chair.

“What for?” Dean demanded.

“To make sure this Ezra kid doesn’t turn rabid.” Bobby wiped his beard before swigging a beer from the twelve pack Sam had snuck on campus. It wasn’t the first or the last beer smuggled onto ALC’s campus. Dean had found an Igloo cooler some of the senior guys kept weighted down in Caney Creek behind Howard-Berger dorm.

“Alright, but I need to stop and change clothes. These have prison cooties.” Dean shivered, making Sam and Bobby roll their eyes.

“Such a princess,” Bobby snarked. Dean chose to ignore his mentor and led Sam toward the Impala.

****

**Hindman First Baptist Church …**

**Youth Group …**

Lights blazed from within the century old church sitting elevated street side. Upbeat, contemporary Christian music radiated from every entrance. Up the mountain stood the church’s newer, larger facility. The youth contented themselves with the wizened original on Wednesdays.

Dean parked across the street at the Bank of Hindman, a yellow street lamp illuminating the classic Chevy. Other cars used the lot, used after hours for overflow church parking.

“I can’t wait until this case is over. These mountains are makin’ me claustrophobic.” Dean complained as he and Sam walked toward the clump of ALC students at the front door. Sam ignored his brother, surveying the crowd for Ezra instead.

“Dean, eleven o’clock,” Sam murmured close to his brother’s ear. Ezra and two girls stood at the back of the sanctuary talking. The brothers helped themselves to a program from a stack in the foyer.

Folding chairs took the place of pews between the entrance and the pulpit. The A/V boot in the choir loft projected a slide show of the youth group’s activities onto a huge screen above the pulpit. Students milled around the spacious sanctuary, some listening as musicians warmed up on stage. A heavy set guy played drums while an athletic guy had all the girls’ attention on bass. At the front of the stage stood a young man, bare foot, with an acoustic guitar. He signaled the slide show to quit.

“Alright everyone, are you ready to play Theologian or Cheese?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other in confusion before taking a seat near the exit. Ezra sat with the two girls he’d been talking to earlier.

“First, Ezra, will you lead us in prayer?”

Ezra’s basso voice carried unaided throughout the sanctuary. Something dark wove it’s way through his voice. Both Winchester brothers shivered, goosebumps rising on their arms. After saying amen Ezra turned, flashing the brothers a grin over his shoulder.

“Uh oh,” Sam muttered. Game on.

Sam and Dean spent the remainder of the service with one eye on Ezra and the other on the crowd worshipping around them. Feeling uplifted, the congregation walked out. More than twenty packed themselves into the ALC busses and headed toward Dairy Queen. Ten or so cars followed, including the Impala.

“Good, I could use a Blizzard.” Dean rubbed his hands together, pulling on his full, bottom lip with perfect white teeth.

“It’s fifteen degrees and you want ice cream?” Sam remarked, shaking his head.

“Hello,” Lynn greeted before she materialized out of a shadow. “Hey, Sam,” she smiled. “Dean.” Him she gave only a nod.

“Hey, Lynn.” Sam gave her a shy smile, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets.

“C’mon, Sam, now’s not the time to be Demi Moore to her Patrick Swayze.” Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder before heading inside.

****   

**Susan’s P.O.V.**

Susan managed to grab a bite to eat before hoofing it up the Donkey Trail to dump her backpack in her room before making her way back down to the busses gathered in front of the Student Center. She gratefully jumped into the middle seat of the toasty van. Two more people crowded into the third row seat and another two beside Susan.

“Ya’ll buckled up?” Paul, the driver, called out. Metallic snaps sounded throughout the vehicle. Paul checked the mirrors and merged into traffic, the radio playing a 1980’s country song. Paul and his fiance sang along, as did Susan but quietly. As much as she loved to sing she didn’t feel comfortable with any kind of audience.

Everyone in the bus gathered their nerve to face the biting chill of late January. Face it they did, excited to be free of classes and responsibilities, free to be around friends. Pulsating music helped to set the mood. Susan clutched her Bible, steeling herself to deal with the crowd. She scanned the crowd, recognizing fellow classmates. She’d had classes with most of them, knew which dorms they lived in, their work-study jobs and who they were dating and who they were interesting in dating in some cases. She doubted any of them knew that much about her, or cared to.

It’s not about any of that, she thought, settling herself into a more worshipful frame of mind. Two tall, dark and handsome figures walking toward the church caught her eye though.

Hmm, the Winchesters. Wonder what they’re doing here, Susan wondered. They didn’t seem the youth group type. I’ll have to keep an eye on them tonight, she affirmed silently.

Though difficult from her third row seat, Susan kept one eye on youth pastor Steven and the other on the Winchesters. They in turn kept an eye on Ezra, the last person to speak to Daisy. They suspected or were in collusion with him. Susan wondered which. From what she knew of the young man he usually went to Dairy Queen with the ALC students. For once she regretted not driving her own Ford Tempo to church.

Wouldn’t do me any good, my headlights stink, she lamented silently. Hopefully the Winchesters will follow him to DQ so I can have all of them where I can keep an eye on them. Susan went through the motions of the youth group service. When it came time to load up on the bus she chose the one headed to the restaurant. The brothers’ classic Chevy followed suit.

I definitely need a Blizzard tonight, she frowned as she followed the crowd inside. They tended to linger beneath the blast of heat at the front door. Susan watched the brothers in the parking lot as she shuffled toward the register. The tired waitress raise her brow expectantly for her order.

“Medium strawberry cheesecake,” Susan rattled off, digging her last four dollars out of her wallet.  Moments later the waitress handed her the soft serve treat upside down. Momentarily distracted from the brothers, Susan found a seat at the edge of the happy youth group.

“Well, well, Nancy Drew,” Dean plopped down across from her, a large Blizzard in hand. Sam sat down beside him, as did Lynn  Howard.

“Um, hello.” Susan looked from face to face. Two of the most gorgeous guys she’d ever laid eyes on had her boxed in, accompanied by a ghost.

“Seems everywhere we go, there you are,” Dean stared straight into Susan’s eyes as he dipped the red, long handled dessert spoon into his cherry Blizzard.

“It’s a small campus,” she shrugged.

“Mmm hmm,” he hummed as he lifted the spoon to his mouth, his tongue darting out to remove a bit of pink soft serve from his upper lip. Susan watched the slow, sensuous motion in rapt fascination. From his short, sandy hair, to his jade green eyes down his straight, roman nose and oh those full lips he knew what he could do to a woman with the least effort. Susan swallowed hard, soundly under his spell.

“You know the student body better than us, tell us about the two girls Ezra’s talking to tonight.” Sam broke the spell, leaning toward her over his banana split.

Susan took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t trust these pretty boy feriners as far as she could throw them. Guys like that didn’t give her the time of day unless they wanted something.

“Please, it’s important,” Lynn  pleaded.

Susan didn’t know that she trusted the ghost either.

“None of your business,” she stated emphatically.

“All aboard for Pippa Passes,” Paul’s voice called loudly from the largest table in the restaurant. Susan gathered her Blizzard and rushed toward the crowd headed back to campus.

You’re a real wit there, Susan, she growled to herself as she hit the door harder than necessary.

****


	7. I Do Dare

**Pippa Passes …**

**Ten P.M. …**

Susan pulled her dark blue stocking cap down over her ears a little farther before stuffing her gloved hands back into her Carhart jacket pockets.

Good thing I pulled my jeans on over my fleece PJs, she thought. Most girls wore a full pajama set to bed in case of fire drills, not to mention the hit or miss heating in the dorms. Quietly, she snuck up campus to Carrack dorms, directly across from Howard-Berger boys dorms.

“I'm telling you, Sammy, it's two AM on Thursday morning and eight degrees out, the triple P P.D. ain't gettin’ out of the office.” The older one, Dean, gestured as they strolled down the sidewalk outside the boy's dorm.

“Yeah, but what if …”

“We tell 'em you forgot a text book in the Impala and you got a test to study for. Lie, Sammy.” Dean slapped his brother on the back and grinned.

“Hmm, curiouser and curiouser,” Susan whispered.

The brothers walked along the tennis court and briefly out of her line of sight as she crouched behind Nelson's SUV. She scurried quietly to catch up but the brothers' longer strides carried them into the shadows around the Work-study Office.

“Blast it!” Susan grunted, her eyes searching the darkness.

“Uh oh,” she managed a moment later as a large, warm hand clapped tightly over her mouth. A second arm held her firmly around the waist.

Oh God. First Daisy, now me, she thought.

“Shh, shh, shh. It's Sam, from Dr. Smyth's class,” he spoke low into her ear.

That didn't reassure Susan one bit. She jabbed her elbow solidly into his stomach before pounding her heavy, men's size eleven leather Sketcher down on his foot. Her next aim was to head butt him in the nose but because of the height difference she only caught him in the chin. Still, he didn't let go of her.

“Stop!” came a split second before the barrel of a handgun appeared in her face. Susan threw up her hands and raised up on tip toe in an effort to stop.

“If you like it rough, sweetheart you shoulda tried me on for size,” Dean drawled lasciviously, his deep voice both teasing and warning at the same time.

“That's how Daisy was abducted so easily, there were two of you!” It fit neatly in Susan's mind. Dean had flashed that smile and those eyes to lure Daisy into the vehicle until Sam could subdue her somehow.

“Is the maintenance guy in on it too? You sick perverts!” she accused loudly. “I've seen you three, passing messages, watching.” She saw Dean's expression shift slightly, his gaze moving to Sam.

“Ah ha!” Susan pointed, proud of herself for pinning the pretty boy's motives.

“We're investigating Daisy's death, undercover. Bobby too,” Sam answered with forced patience in his voice.

Musta nailed his foot good, Susan mused, still looking down the barrel of Dean's handgun.

“Yeah, right, who with?” she demanded, eyeballing the brothers, still suspicious.

“KSP. We're cadets. That's why they sent Bobby.” Dean lowered the handgun but kept it ready.

“Try again. I've seen those old _Mod Squad_ re-runs too.” Crossing her arms, Susan watched the brothers exchange a meaningful look.

“Look, Susan, we are looking into Daisy's death. There may be a copycat killer trying to play out some sick version of Burt Jacobs.” Dean's voice and expression grew stone cold sober, no charm or smirk, just determination.

“How do you explain Sam talking to Miss June's ghost in the library? Or Lynn Howard at DQ tonight?” She'd set aside her suspicion that they were murderers but her curiosity demanded satisfaction.

“You saw them?”

Susan frowned at the younger brother. Answering a question with a question seemed impertinent.

“I was a Guest House Janitor my sophomore year; cleaned her house a hundred times. I've seen her, seen Alice Lloyd, the printing press that moved around in Cushing Hall, heard the chairs go up and down in CAC, saw the ghost girl in Lily second floor west. I know all the nooks and crannies here.” She watched as Sam tilted his head a bit to the right while Dean scratched his hairline with an index finger.

“Okay, Nancy Drew, but do you know anything that'll help us.” Dean gestured with the handgun until Sam reached over and pushed the barrel toward the ground.

“Yes, Hardy Boys, I do. Daisy wasn't dragged into a pick-up truck like Lynn Howard. Daisy was supposed to meet Ezra at the wall to go to the movies in Hazard.”

“What wall?” Sam asked, confused. Both Dean and Susan rolled their eyes in disgust.

“THE WALL, Sam. It’s outside Carrick Dorm. Guys and girls hang out there until curfew.” Susan explained as if to a simpleton.

“Don’t mind him, sweetheart. Girls were never Sammy's strong suit. Spent too much time with his nose in the books.”

“Better in the books than up some girl's skirt,” the taller Winchester muttered, just barely loud enough for Susan to hear.

Susan stifled a giggle at Dean’s exaggeration. Little did she know.

“So, it could have been a copycat; one of the students. Maybe Ezra,” Susan mused, adjusting her stocking cap as she thought.

“It isn’t a student.”

Everyone turned to see Lynn Howard as she walked into the glow beneath the security light.

“Jacobs has possessed someone. He met a girl on the road beside Carrick and they took off down campus.” She pointed toward the gates and Lot X beyond.

“C’mon, Sammy, time to save the girl.” Dean lightly smacked his brother’s arm. They took off at a jog toward Lot X and the Impala.

“You aren’t going without me!” Susan insisted, running flat out to catch up. She wasn’t use to being the short one in a group. Most of the time others called for her to slow down or wait for them.

“Oh no, Nancy Drew, this is too dangerous.” Dean turned on his heel, his expression dark. Susan almost slammed into him, not that she would have minded slamming into either Winchester brother.

“You are staying here.” He turned and called over his shoulder, “Sam, get me the handcuffs.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She stood up straighter, trying to hide her fear. From the way Dean stepped closer to how he ran the tip of his tongue slowly along the edge of his perfect teeth Susan knew he totally would handcuff her. What she feared was that she would let him and like it.

“Oh, sweetheart, I do dare. Handcuffs are a kind of kink of mine,” Dean purred, swaggering a step closer. She’d never had the sole attention of a hot guy. Susan flew under their radar. Though flattering, she knew he’d used his rampant sex appeal to distract, to slow her thinking. Susan felt her heart rate rise as he drew nearer and boy-o did he smell delightful.

“I, uh.” She froze. What leverage did she have?

“Dean, we have company.” Sam smacked his brother’s arm before pointing to the SUV coming toward them at the edge of faculty housing.

“Get the girl and let’s go,” Dean ordered. Sam grabbed Susan by the wrist and began running for Lot X.

“What is it with you and manhandling me?” she protested. To keep up with his four foot stride she had to run double time. By the time they cleared the narrow bridge over Caney Creek her lungs burnt and her legs felt like spaghetti.They all piled into the Impala and Dean had it roaring a moment later. Somewhere along the way the ghosts of Lynn  Howard and Daisy joined them.

****  


	8. Exorcism

**Knott County …**

Dean pulled the Impala up to the entrance to the abandoned strip mine. A narrow, rutted dirt lane covered in snow and ATV tracks led up the side of the diminished mountain.

“Ah, man! I can’t take Baby up that. It’ll drag the guts out,” Dean complained.

“Better the car’s guts than that girl,” Susan piped up from the back seat. Sam, Susan, Lynn and Daisy all glared at him.

“Fine!” he growled. The elder brother backed his precious car out onto the blacktop, put it in second gear and took off, trying to get a run and go up the steep path. Dean cursed every rut and rock all the way up.

“Finally.” Dean backed off the gas when they arrived at flat ground. His passengers breathed a sigh of relief as well.

“What was Jacobs driving?” Sam asked, scanning the vast, flat surface.

Hmm, kinda reminds me of the surface of the moon, Susan thought.

“A small, round, silver car,” Lynn  answered.

“Damn, this place covers acres,” Dean swore as he cruised aimlessly.

“Shouldn’t we split up or something?” Susan wondered aloud.

“Only if you want to die,” Dean retorted.

“You are such a smartalec,” Susan shot back. Looking in the rearview mirror she saw Dean’s mouth form a wicked smile.

“You aren’t the first girl to say that, Susie,” he drawled.

“Stop!” Sam shouted. Standing in the headlights stood Daisy, pointing to her left. Everyone’s gaze turned to see a Nissan sedan, all the doors open and the lights on, parked near a scraggly stand of trees.

“Help!” a young woman screamed as a tall, dark figure dragged her along under one arm.

“Jacobs,” Lynn  pronounced before materializing outside, next to Daisy.

Dean turned the car toward the Nissan and the knot of trees. He skidded to a stop and all three corporeal riders bailed out. Susan followed the brothers to the trunk.

“Now’s not the time to change a flat. He’s going to kill her.”

“No room for a spare, Susie.” Dean used a sawed off shotgun as a prop for the trunk, revealing an arsenal of weapons and other stuff Susan didn’t recognize.

“Ghost 101; iron hurts them, disrupts them when they manifest,” Sam explained, holding up his iron brass knuckles.

“Rock salt, too,” Dean finished for his brother, handing him another sawed off shotgun and a handful of shells.

“Here, take this.” Dean shoved a tire iron into Susan’s hands. “Swing for the fence,” he coached.

“We couldn’t salt and burn Jacobs’s bones so what’s the plan?” Sam asked, waiting on the others.

“Save the girl and load his ass full of rock salt.” Dean’s expression hardened.

“He’ll just abduct another victim,” Susan pointed out as they collected flashlights.

“We have his journal. We’ll salt and burn that.” Dean slammed the trunk and together they set off.

Susan hoped they lived to see tomorrow.

I have no idea what they’re talking about but they seem confident enough, she reasoned silently.

“Heads up, Susie Q,” Dean warned a second before tossing her a flashlight. “Stay close.” She could only nod.

Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it, Susan reminded herself grimly. Most of the time she was a safe, smart young woman content to read about adventures in books, not to pursue one for herself.

You just HAD to be nosy, didn’t you, she lamented to herself as she followed close on Sam’s heels. Their flashlights only illuminated ten or twelve feet beyond the three rescuers. Susan lost count of the number of times she stumbled over fist size rocks and inches deep tire trenches left behind by heavy, mining equipment.

“Stop!” Dean ordered, his deep voice urgent. All three stood statue still, listening, extending their senses into the cold darkness.

“Follow me,” Dean commanded a moment later, his light splitting off to Susan’s right, deeper into the mining area. The most blood curdling scream Susan had ever heard split the air a moment later. At first she wondered if they’d crossed paths with a mountain lion or an elk in distress. Both prey and predator were alive somewhere in the night.   
“Help! Oh God! Please, don’t!” came next. Susan huffed and puffed to keep up with the brothers. She just hoped they didn’t run head first into a bloodbath.

“Ezra! Stop! You’re hurting me.” Susan’s stomach dropped at the sound of a familiar voice - Lori.

A few minutes of running blindly led everyone to Ezra and Lori . He held her by the hair of the head, dragging her toward a copse of trees.

“I told you, you stupid bitch, I’m not Ezra, I’m Burt. I’m back and this time no one’s gonna stop me.“ He kept up a litany of ‘now I’m unstoppable, everyone’s going to know my name’. Neither of them seemed to see the three people approaching them, flashlights bobbing erratically.

“Sam, to the right. Susie Q, stay back until we can free the girl,” Dean laid out the plan quickly, pulling his handgun. Contrary to her character, Susan followed orders. Being told to stay put chaffed. Dying chaffed worse though.

“Hey, Jacobs, turn the girl loose,” Dean shouted. He cast a glance toward Sam, making sure his brother was both in position and safe.

“Huh, more victims.” Jacobs stopped several yards from the clump of trees, Lori still firmly in his grasp. Susan heard Sam’s voice begin to chant what she thought was Latin. The young man whose body the ghost possessed began to thrash, a roaring scream tearing through the dim lights of their flashlights.

“It’s over, Jacobs, give us the girl,” Dean shouted again as he worked his way toward them. Lori pulled at his hand in her hair, tears streaming down her face at the pain.

“No, this time everyone’s gonna know my name. I was sloppy last time.” Jacobs frantically looked from Dean ahead of him to the two ghosts flanking him. All three moved forward.

“This time you go down, Jacobs. No more victims,” Lynn shouted. A fierce, cold wind rose around the mining site. It tugged at their clothing, sending bits of dust and dirt in every direction.

“Nothing can take me down. I cheated death.” He gripped Lori tighter but distracted she twisted away and ran into the darkness. Susan followed her. Sam and Dean moved forward. Dean shoved his handgun into the waistband of his jeans and then pulled out the sheaf of papers. He clamped them under his left arm and fished out a canister of salt and a Zippo lighter. Sam moved forward, still chanting. Susan and Lori hunkered down and watched the spectacle. Jacobs threw his arms wide and his head backward. Again, a roaring scream came bellowing from him. Dean set the pages down on the ground, poured the entire canister of salt on them and touched the Zippo to one corner. It took only moments for the ghost to stream forth from Ezra’s body. The young man crumpled to the ground.

“What was that?” Lori whispered to Susan as they waited for whatever might happen next.

“I don’t know,” Susan answered, searching the darkness around them. Sam and Dean were squatted down near and unconscious Ezra. A few feet away the papers smoldered, a sulfuric stench coming off them. Daisy and Lynn drifted toward the girls.

“Are you alright?” Daisy asked, kneeling down to Lori and Susan’s level. Behind her Lynn  watched quietly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Lori shrugged, clinging to Susan as she looked up at her dead roommate.

“How are you here?” Lori’s voice broke as tears began.

“You needed me, so I’m here,” Daisy grinned, trying to comfort her friend. The four women watched as Sam and Dean dragged Ezra toward the Impala. Slowly, the girls followed them. Daisy took Lori’s other side.

At the car, Dean had the it started and the heat on in moments. Susan, Lori and Daisy crowded into the back seat while the men took the front.

“I’ll meet you back on campus,” Lynn spoke but to no one in particular.

“Okay,” Sam responded before shutting the car door.

****   

**Pippa Passes …**

Sam and Dean took Susan, Lori and Ezra back to campus.

“Did you get ahold of Bobby?” Dean asked as he steered around hairpin curves on icy pavement.

“Yeah. He said he’d meet us at the maintenance building.” Sam answered.

“Are you alright?” Sam twisted in his seat to ask.

Lori shook, both from cold and shock. She stared into the landscape draped in darkness beyond the road.

“She will be, eventually,” Daisy answered solemnly. She laid her hand on the girl's shoulder. A few minutes later the Impala pulled into the lot surrounding the maintenance building. Everyone bailed out, glad to be back on familiar ground. Susan helped Lori inside, her arm around the petite brunette. Bobby held open a side door and beckoned them inside. He had coffee percolating for them and the heat cranked up. He and Sam filled cups for everyone, heavy on the sugar and cream. Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes, decompressing.

“Lori, it’s time for me to go. You’re safe now. Jacobs is gone for good.” Daisy squatted down in front of her friend. Susan watched the ghost of her classmate struggle to say good-bye. Her heart hurt for the young woman, for all young women lost on the brink of potential.

“Thank you.” Lori threw her arms around her friend, tears spilling for both of them. Susan stood up, uncomfortable with such a open display of emotion. She felt she had no place, no right, to be there. Neither of them had been her close friends. She wondered how she’d feel in their place. Did her friends care about her as much as Lori and Daisy cared for each other?  

“Buck up, Susie Q, everything turned out alright.” Dean, leaning against the heavy, metal desk, looked into her eyes. She saw his pain, thinly veiled.

“Yeah. This time,” Susan almost whispered. From Dean’s expression she knew he felt the same.

“You boys take the ladies home and I’ll see to Ezra.” Bobby broke the mood of misery with practicality.

“Will do, Bobby.” Dean heaved himself up from his perch on the desk’s edge, draining his coffee cup.

“C’mon, Susie Q, you’re riding up front with me this trip.” Dean jangled his car keys and flashed a sexy grin.

“Humph,” Susan retorted, rolling her eyes.

***


	9. Something to Remember Me By

_**The Next Morning …**_  
Susan walked into the Hunger Din at seven twenty, wrung out from lack of sleep. She and Lori had spent much of the night talking, sorting things out. They now shared an experience they knew no one else would understand or believe.  
“Yo, Susie Q, have a seat,” Dean called from their usual seat near the windows. Sam turned, nodding hello silently.  
Susan took her time fixing her raisin bran cereal and chocolate milk before crossing the dining area. A fresh coat of snow covered Lilly hill and all the cars along the frozen creek. Grounds boys had been out at five AM spreading salt and shoveling sidewalks. Their supervisor, a former truck driver named Wally, rode his Gator ATV up and down campus spreading salt on the pavement. The day promised to be boring since non-resident students probably wouldn’t make it to class. Even June Buchanan School had been called off, a rare occurrence.  
“How are you this morning?” Sam asked, stirring butter into his grits. Susan and Dean exchanged a glance of mutual grossed outness.  
“Tired but alright. Lori spent the night in my dorm room.” Susan shrugged, unsure what else to say.  
“How’s Ezra?” she finally managed, changing the subject.  
“He thinks it’s all a horrible dream or that someone drugged him,” Sam informed.  
“That’s probably best. He’s a victim in all this, too.”  
“C’mon, Sammy, let’s eat and get on the road. We still have to pack.” Dean hurried his brother.  
“The case is over, huh. Time to go.” Part of Susan wished they wouldn’t leave. She liked Sam and intuition told her she’d like Dean too, once she got use to his bold ways.  
When Sam and Dean stood up to put their trays away Susan followed suit. She walked them to the Impala sitting outside the Student Center.  
“You fellas be careful out there,” she wished them wistfully.  
“We will.” Sam waved before folding himself into the passenger side of the car.  
“What the hell,” Dean said before quickly stepping up to Susan. He put both arms around her and bent her over backward in a dramatic kiss. She didn’t even have time to process what was going on before he tilted his head and his lips met hers. His arm tightened around her waist as his other hand cupped her head. Susan moaned softly as he pulled away, bringing they both back to their feet. He held her for a moment, thankfully. Susan doubted her knees could hold her up if he’d let go too soon.  
“Take care of yourself, Susie Q,” Dean said over his shoulder as he opened the car door.  
“Uh huh,” she nodded, dazed. Susan stood outside the Student Center watching until the Impala faded from sight.  
_**Dean and Sam POV …**_  
“What the hell was that?” Sam asked, hitching his thumb over his shoulder toward Susan.  
“Something to remember me by,” Dean answered casually. Sam shook his head but kept his opinion to himself. For the brothers it was off to meet up with Bobby and eventually another case to solve. Something else to Hunt. Someone else to Save. The Family Business.

  
**The End.**


End file.
